A SECOND CHANCE AT LIFE
by Quivorian
Summary: To make the first step into his future, guilty-free, he had to first come to peace with his past. (Penance, Patience, Procedure, Paranoia, Perfection, Pregnancy, Proposal. Oh, and Post-Red John. A planned seven chapter story narrating the events that happen between Jane and Lisbon after he decides to woo her. Second story, hope you like it!) (Third chapter posted.)
1. PENANCE

**DISCLAIMER:** _I honestly wonder why we still bother to write this. But for the sake of tradition, I do not and never will own the Mentalist (unless by some lucky windfall I manage to earn tons of money and decide to buy the Mentalist) and all the wonderful, yet frustrating episodes are not originated from my mind. Bruno Heller should be mentioned somewhere._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Just my second story, so I would very much appreciate it if you didn't hate it. Set in my own little perfect world where Red John is dead. Like real dead. Like dead-dead. How wonderful would that be, huh?_

* * *

Red John was dead.

_Killed._

_Shot._

Jane was lying down in his sofa in the corner of the California Bureau of Investigations' bullpen. The team were all in the kitchenette, listening to Rigsby talk about Ben's latest antics. Lisbon was in her office, her faced etched with a ghost of a smile that she was trying to hide.

After Red John's death, Jane had stopped coming to the CBI. He had been conflicted, not knowing whether to be happy or sad, whether to celebrate or mourn. Jane had figured he had to be happy, taken over by euphoria, at the fact that the dark cloud looming over his life in the form of a serial killer was finally gone. But Jane wasn't a man of foresight or planning, and he hadn't actually thought of what he would do in a post-Red John life.

In the time he spent away from the CBI he had taken refuge in his year-round motel room, cutting himself off from all human contact except for Lisbon, who had came over at odd times, seeking help in one or other rather difficult cases. It had made him pleased, that the CBI couldn't function efficiently without him. He hadn't mentioned that to Lisbon, fearing that she may stop coming. Lisbon had also tried to reintegrate him back to society, even though she had known that she was fighting a losing a battle, she had tried and tried again without giving up hope. _Stubborn. _It was a quality that he and Lisbon shared, one that he was rather very well known for. Though he had helped her with her cases, if only to provide himself a distraction from his mundane life, he had refused to budge when she'd asked him to come back.

Today morning Jane had decided that he had given himself enough to time to decide about his plans for his future. He would continue working for the SCU, it was a job he enjoyed with people who were his surrogate family _and_ he could be close to Lisbon. _No. Scratch that last one._

He had come to the CBI way too early, no one the team had gotten in yet. Greeting the security guard, who was visibly surprised to see him, he had parked his car in his assigned place and entered the old building. He had gone to his attic to find it untouched, just as it had been the last time he'd been there. _Lisbon. _She would've been the one to make sure it was left just the way it was_. _As much as she hated Jane's solitude, she respected his thought had made him smile.

After burning all the files he had on Red John along with anything else that was symbol of his obsession of Red John, he had come down and made himself a cup of tea. It hadn't surprised Jane to see the team members' shocked faces when they came in that morning and found him sipping tea in his brown leather couch. Rigsby had dropped his bag of donuts when he had seen Jane, Cho had raised his eyebrow (for which Jane was very grateful, Cho wasn't one to move his facial muscles unless he was speaking), and Van Pelt had squealed in glee.

Just as he was wondering how Lisbon would react to his news that he would continue working for the CBI, she had come in. _Speak of the devil, the petite little firecracker of a she-devil. _Jane had dismissed the thought and smiled at Lisbon. It was nice to see her, it was infinitely better to pester her than Rigsby or Van Pelt. _They weren't much fun._

Seeing her smile in return had irritated Jane. _Probably thinking I came back because you asked me to. No way. _'What now, woman?' She had continued smirking to his annoyance. Even though he didn't let her know, it was a welcome change compared to the worried face she usually wore when she was around him.

'Nothing. Just, it's nice to see you.' She had grinned again when his face contorted. Jane could feel Lisbon's happiness. _Metaphorically. _The little minx had actually thought he had come because of her efforts.

'Nice to see you too, Lisbon, but I only came because I wanted to,' Jane had retorted. 'Your efforts had nothing to do with that.' He watched her walk back to her office. He could feel her smiling in joy that he had actually started to change. She had gone in, closed the door and sat down in front of the computer, still smiling.

Now, lying down on the couch he tried to make a list of things that he had to accomplish. A list of things that needed to be done. Things that he wanted to do in the last ten years but had ignored due to the ever present quest of vengeance against Red John. He seriously needed something else to obsess over. _Something less gloomy, maybe something more cheerful this time. Probably something that didn't include turning the CBI attic into a lair, and didn't involve any serial killers. Or any criminals at all for that matter._

He could start reading books. Join the Cho-club. Or maybe start watching all the movies he had missed out on. But neither of them seemed like Jane's style. _Book reading is for stoic people. Cho. _Not for the terrific Patrick Jane. _And movies? Meh. He didn't even want to think about it. _Jane had hated the cinema from the beginning. _Movies were too unrealistic, the actors were too superficial and irksome. _Unfortunately, the irony was lost in him.

He turned his attention back to Lisbon. She was actually working this time, not just trying to hide her joy. She was beautiful, in her own super-cop-catching-criminals way. She was gorgeous actually. That's when it dawned on him. The first thing that needed doing was Lisbon. _Wait. He hadn't meant it that way. Had he? No. _He needed to woo Lisbon. All the years of working together, late nights in the office, playful banter and harmless flirtations had made Jane fall in love with Lisbon.

Though the revelation suddenly hit him like a truckload of bricks, Jane found that he wasn't un-used to it. It felt like it had always been there, hidden, buried deep beneath the mountain of emotional pain that Jane had carried within him throughout the years. He took some time to consider, to explore his feelings.

He was attracted to Lisbon. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. _Spiritually? No. He didn't believe in that nonsense. _He found her gorgeous. He considered her breathtakingly beautiful. Jane realized that he had always done so subconsciously, so it wasn't such a foreign feeling for him.

'Guys, we caught one, high school kid murdered in his classroom.' Cho shouted suddenly, having gotten a new case over the phone. Lisbon came out of her office and started heading towards the elevator, after getting the case details from Cho.

She stopped halfway and turned to look at Jane, expectantly, waiting for him to follow. 'I think I'll join you later, Lisbon.' He answered her unasked question. If he was to act on his _"newfound"_ feelings for his boss/best friend, there were some other things to be done first. He had to completely let go of his past. _He couldn't wear the ring anymore._

To make the first step into his future, guilty-free, he had to first come to peace with his fast.

—

_Dear Mister Jane, I do not like to be slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money-grubbing fraud. If you were a real psychic, instead of a dishonest little worm, you wouldn't need to open the door to see what I've done to your lovely wife and child._

Jane remembered walking slowly up the stairs that night. After the interview. _He's an ugly, tormented little man. A lonely soul. Sad. Very sad. _He remembered the blood draining from his face as he read the note. He remembered the signature of the killer, the gruesome smiley-face, painted on his bedroom wall with his wife's blood.

Standing in front of the graves that housed the bodies of his dead wife and child, Jane felt his eyes welling up. _Angela Ruskin Jane. Charlotte Anne Jane. _His wife had been beautiful. They had run away from the carnie life together, gotten married, and had an amazing little daughter. They had built a life from the ground up, and Jane hated himself for it. For starting the psychic gig, for not stopping it when Angela had asked him to, for insulting Red John publicly. Jane swallowed. _He couldn't go back to his past. There was nothing he could do about what had happened. _What was done, was done.

_Your wife wants me to tell you that your daughter never woke up. She didn't know what happened. She wasn't scared, not even for a second. _Kristina Frye had said that. Before she was kidnapped by Red John and driven into a state of mind where she refused to believe she was alive. He knew that the words meant nothing, _there were no such things as psychics_. But those words had calmed him. They gave him a sense of contentment, an assurance that his daughter hadn't suffered.

_Red John. Red John. Red John. I'm so over Red John. _Jane recounted the time that he had drunken a tea poisoned with a hallucinogen. He had seen his daughter. At least, a vision of her, how he imagined his daughter to be, all grown up. _What happened to you? I've been dead for ten years and you're still stuck in neutral? You have no life, just this endless obsession. Red John. Red John. Mom would not be happy. _His affected state of mind had chastised him, taking on the image of his daughter.

_Yeah? And I hate to be the one to break this to you dad, but, there's nothing that you can do for us. We don't give a damn what happens to Red John. I mean we're dead. Gone. You need to start dealing with that. _His daughter had been right, even though he had ignored to see it. He had needed to move on, and he hadn't.

Jane removed the ring in his hand and pocketed it. He would always love Angela, and his daughter. They would a part of him until he dies, but he couldn't be with them. Not anymore. Charlotte, even though she had only been a product of his imagination, had recognized his affection for Lisbon. It was way past time he did something about it.

—

He couldn't just waltz into her office and declare his love for her. Neither could he just randomly seduce her and have a romp in the sack. He knew Lisbon well enough to know that either of those methods would end up with him with a bleeding nose._ Hypnotization? No._

Patience. That was what he needed. Patience.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE 2:** _This story will not be updated again for quite some time. Mainly because of my exams _(Physics and Chemistry and Biology and English and more and more) _but also because I might leave for my country, me grand dad is sick. I realize this might be similar to some other stories around the Mentalist fanfic database, and I confess that I was indeed inspired by said stories, but you have my word that I will work very hard to make my stories unique, even if it means that I might end up crashing and burning my reputation. Reviews? Pretty please?__  
_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE 3:** _This might take longer than I realized to complete, due to the fact that my exams aren't over, and I have got a serious case of writer's block, on this, my White Collar fic, my season finale Castle fic and my actual story. Sorry if you have to wait.__  
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	2. PATIENCE

Patience was a virtue. Luckily, it was a virtue that Jane had truly mastered.

After careful consideration, which Jane had gone over while lying down in his leather couch in the CBI, he had made his decision. He would take his time, be patient and masterful in his process of seducing Lisbon. So that, when he made his big move, it would work without any hitches.

—

Jane was sitting in Lisbon's office, which was nothing out of the usual, but his mind was wandering off in all directions, beyond Jane's control. He wondered whether they would make out in her office, or maybe in his attic. He wondered whether they would let the team know that they were dating. He wondered whether Lisbon's allergy of public displays of affection would be an obstacle. _If they were, it would be one that he would have to overcome._

It was nice to ponder freely, without worrying about Red John. Even though he did know he was counting his geese before they hatched.

Jane's new study of Lisbon also included invading her privacy. Or at least, invading her privacy more than he usually did. His intention was to learn everything about her that he didn't know, though even he knew that he already knew more than he should.

He had rifled through her desk drawers one evening and found out the countless paper frogs, and the ribbon from the pony stashed away, amongst other things that he had given to her in the past. Though the mystery of the instrument she played and the secret turn-on were still hidden in the shadows. _Not to worry. There'll be time to learn that later._ He made a promise to himself to find whatever it was that flipped her switch. _Methodically._

'Jane?' Lisbon called, opening the door and stepping inside after having an animated discussion with the team.

'Mhmm?' Jane mumbled, cursing himself for letting go of reins he had over his mind and snapping out of his fantasy-land, a place where he would never again have to present Lisbon with a paper frog.

'About the DeLauer case… VanPelt says that the prints found at the scene weren't a match. Looks like your "hunch" was wrong' Jane could hear the smugness in Lisbon's voice, knowing that Jane had failed at something.

Too bad that he would have to take that away from Lisbon.

'Au contraire,'—when did he start to speak French?—'You didn't find the prints to be a match because Wilson DeLauer wasn't killed by Jimmy Carter, at least not directly. Carter must've hired a hit man, find him and you've got Carter.' Jane answered. 'Not a very good hit man at that.' He added for good measure.

He didn't bother giving any more details than needed. He needed to get back to his daydreaming. His once negative opinion towards daydreaming as a waste of time and productivity had long since shifted.

'Jane?' Lisbon called again, having seated herself in her chair. 'Do you know what—?' Her question was cut off by the ring of her phone that announced a text message. _Strange. _Jane noted. _Lisbon usually kept her phone silent_.

Jane noticed that Lisbon's face lit up considerably as she scanned her mobile's screen. She was seriously happy, and all signs of worry had left her face. Lisbon didn't usually become like this after reading a text message, it was uncharacteristic of her. And judging from her disinterest in the case, which was against Lisbon Law, it was one she was expecting.

'Who's that?' Jane asked, now interested, hoping to find the secret behind Lisbon's sudden euphoria.

'No one of any concern to you, Jane.' She answered and returned to her paperwork. _Even stranger._ Jane decided that he would drop the subject for now and maybe pursue it later at his own pace. He needed a nap.

—

_Pick you up for dinner tonight? 7? – Tony_

Jane read the message. And read it again. His face was set in an expression of incredulous wonder.

_Pick you up for dinner tonight? _This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't good. This wasn't in the books. His waiting for the perfect time for the perfect move was supposed to be obstacle-less.

He put Lisbon's phone back to where he found it from and sat down in the white couch that decorated her office. _Damn that Tony. How could this have happened? _He needed to know. Lying down in the couch he deliberated methods from which he could coax that bit of information out Lisbon. He had thought of everything from the not-so-original hypnotization (which might not work, since she would know) to the very-original-yet-disturbing kidnapping her. _That wouldn't do either. He didn't know how to properly kidnap anyone, something he forgot to learn in his years of observing criminals._

As he was going over the possibilities of trying to get Lisbon drunk enough to spill her guts, he realized that he had missed something obvious. He didn't need to get the information from Lisbon… He could simply find VanPelt. She was the best source was gossip around the bullpen, seconded only by oblivious Rigsby, who most often didn't realize he had a valuable piece of information until someone pointed it out to him.

_Poor VanPelt. _He thought as he came to a decision that it was time that VanPelt got a dose of his sweet-talking powers.

—

_Ristorante Amanti _was a very fancy Italian restaurant, despite its rather unoriginal name, and the kind of place that made food-art out of every dish you ordered. Jane knew enough Italian know what it meant, and what Tony hoped to convey by bringing Lisbon here on their first date.

Jane was seated down in a table, having followed the two, with a bowl of soup in front of him. He was staring at it intently, his focus elsewhere. Seated in a candle-lit corner, about three tables away from Jane was Lisbon and her date. She was sitting with her back to him, which worked greatly to Jane's advantage as he listened in on their conversation. They were having an animated discussion about common interests, their jobs and other things that were commonplace. The interfering prick also was slowly inching his hand towards Lisbon's over the surface of the table, trying to get them to touch.

_VanPelt,_ Jane had been the reason for all this. Jane knew that she meant well, she only wanted her boss/friend to have companionship in some other form than the people they worked with. _'Doesn't she have me?' _Jane had asked when the earnest red-headed agent had told him of her reason for setting Lisbon up with Mr Shiny Teeth. She hadn't had an answer, and only looked away awkwardly. Jane had just smiled and waved it away like a joke and left the CBI immediately.

Jane would have usually like this _Tony _character. Tony was taller than the average man, though not as tall as Rigsby was, and well-built. Tousled brown hair, matching his brown eyes and dressed like a normal person on a date. Clean t-shirt, blue jeans, rather nice and new pair of shoes – Jane looked down at his own pair with distaste – and a black leather jacket. Tony even seemed moderately intelligent.

After dinner, Tony drove Lisbon home in his car, and Jane followed in his Chevy, that he had rented. He knew that his baby blue Citroen was too inconspicuous and that Lisbon would identify it effortlessly, had it been following her. _Couldn't risk that. _ With the mind-set of a seasoned stalker, he had thought of renting a different car. One that was too common.

Now, he was sitting outside her apartment building watching Tony walk out the front door after going in a few minutes ago. Lisbon's date looked rather pleased with himself, but Jane's mind was both relieved and worried. He was relieved because Lisbon hadn't invited Tony in. Jane smiled arrogantly to himself. But he was worried that the fact that Lisbon didn't invite Tony in meant that she wanted a serious relationship. He couldn't let this one date snowball into something big like that.

Sitting in his hired car, reminiscing about his past, Jane realized that he was committing a crime, stalking Lisbon around on her date. Even though he was exceptionally pleased with himself about having changed cars, the guilt of invading his beloved Lisbon's privacy without her knowledge seemed immoral. _It wasn't a crime if it was done for the greater good, right? _He tried reasoning to himself. The weight of guilt didn't change.

Determined to get closer to Lisbon, close enough to confess his feelings, without committing a crime and by doing something other than stalking her on a date like an obsessed madman, he revved the engine of the Chevy and turned around heading back to the CBI. _He wasn't a stalker. No. He was a refined gentleman. And would behave as such._

—

Lisbon had already gone on a date with the god awful nitwit, and arranged for a second one. He had come across a text message from the idiot while perusing Lisbon's phone, yet again. He hadn't meant to see that, but what was done was done. _Anthony. Tony. How dare he ask Lisbon out over a text message? And twice? That was unacceptable. _

Jane needed the new (or at least, relatively new) guy off the board. He needed to get rid of Tony, not kill him, of course, though the idea had occurred to Jane. He couldn't ask Lisbon out whilst the good for nothing Tony was still pursuing Lisbon.

_Genius, _Jane congratulated himself as the wheels in his head started spinning forming a plan that would eliminate Mr Anthony Charles Carmichael from the game.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Second chapter, posted after soooooo long. Hope you guys didn't get bored of waiting. You will note that there may be a few problems with the tenses, I may have muddled a few parts up. Badly, but excuse me for that. My exams have finished, and you may expect the next chapter to be posted sooner than this one. No promises. Please review?_


	3. PROCEDURE

Tony considered himself a very lucky man. He was in his early forties, with a stable job that he loved doing and now he had met a girl who captured his interest. A girl who bought back the sparks of romance that he had worked very hard to bury after his first and only marriage ended badly.

As he climbed up the stairs to his apartment, he preferred walking over the elevator as it kept him in shape, he thought of the date he had with Teresa a few days ago. Their second one had been much more interesting than the first, she hadn't spoken at all about the damned wonder-boy who worked for her and had lingered on for a moment longer at her door, as if indecisive about inviting him in or not. He had excused himself and left before she'd made up her mind. He'd been taught to be the gentleman.

He put his key in and turned it in the lock, and stepped inside closing the door behind him. He wanted set up a third date, this time by actually calling her (he had texted the times before, being a little shy), and eagerly looked forward to seeing her again.

Getting rid of his bag and unbuttoning his shirt, he walked over to the table and picked up the phone. He racked his brain for a while trying to remember Teresa's number and started dialing once he was sure of the digits. He realized that he was smiling despite himself, anticipating talking to this woman who had taken a hold of his heart, after just two dates.

His happiness, however, was short-lived. He heard a person cough behind him, and turned warily, his empty hand going to his hip for the government issued gun.

'Put down the phone, Mr. Carmichael, and please do sit down.'

—

Jane loved his couch more than any other non-living object in the world. He felt as it that old brown leather couch knew more of his woes and delights than anyone else in the world, so it was in that, that he had planned the careful procedure that took care of the thorn in the side of the still unrequited romance of his.

He needed to get rid of _Tony _before the damage done was irreversible. He couldn't allow Lisbon and Mr. Perfectly Gelled Hair's relationship to progress to the third date. Or beyond. _No way_. Thinking about that made waves of overwhelming shivers run through Jane's body. Jane wanted nothing more than Lisbon's happiness. Only, in a very selfish notion, he wanted her to be happy with him. And him only.

His first move had been to find out more about this _Tony_, more than the on-the-surface information that VanPelt had been able to give him, and so he had asked around and snooped a bit more in Lisbon's personal belonging. He had also felt guilty and appropriately punished himself, before deciding that it was ultimately very beneficial to snoop around Mr. Anthony. _For the greater good._

After some thorough investigation, mostly legal (the only illegal thing Jane did was hypnotize a few ex-girlfriends, one ex-wife and a rather very colorful sister) Jane had enough information on Tony. Tony was, as Jane predicted, a divorced do-gooder who spent most of his time on his job. Tony also liked finger-food, caramel mocha lattes and the occasional videogames. As hard as Jane searched, he had not yet found a single negative comment (a seriously negative one, not one like 'he doesn't like puppies') about Tony except from his ex-wife, but that was probably biased.

Jane realized with a heavy heart that there was no way, or more accurately nothing, that he could walk up to Lisbon and say that would make her stop seeing Tony. She would also be very, very interested in how he knew those things, especially when she had _intentionally _failed to mention that she was dating anyone, much less Tony. He supposed he could hypnotize Lisbon but she would definitely see it coming. _Not good._

There was no way he could persuade Lisbon to drop Tony. At least none that would actually work. Short of physically forcing her, there was nothing he could do. Jane was afraid to admit to himself that at one point he had even considered that. So if he couldn't get Lisbon to blow off Tony, what could he do?

Injected with a sudden dose of cleverness, Jane stood up from his couch and smiled to himself. He was very happy, euphoric even, as he ran out of the bullpen much to the confusion of the rest of the team, and Lisbon herself.

There were always two sides to any story, or in this case, relationships. He was going to persuade, or if he needed to, scare the _other_ side into seeing things his way.

—

'Who are you?' Tony asked the man who had spoken. The man who was settled in comfortably in the leather armchair Tony had proudly inherited from dead grandpa.

'Does it really matter?' The stranger asked back. Tony found the mysterious intruder strangely familiar, Tony could swear that he had seen the golden blonde curls somewhere, but couldn't pinpoint where, or when for that matter.

'Okay then, how'd you get—' Tony's question was interrupted before he could finish it. The fellow in the armchair spoke before Tony got the entire question out.

'If you want to know how I entered you apartment,' the man pointed to a leather case that sat in the coffee table, 'That is a grade-A lock picking kit. If your question is how I know where you live, well, I may or may not have followed you.' The man then shrugged as if he thought that this was common knowledge.

Tony was dumbfounded. He couldn't say anything, so he simply sat down opposite the man. This mysterious stranger had lock picked his apartment and was sitting in front of him as if he owned the place. All the primal instincts in Tony's body begged him to whip his gun out or run away screaming, but something about the stranger made him contain his instincts. Tony didn't know whether it was the baby blue pinstriped three piece suit he was wearing, or the cup of tea (which Tony just noticed) that the man was sipping, creating a wholesome image of a character out of the Victorian era.

'Mr. Carmichael, or can I call you Tony?' Tony just nodded, and the man continued, 'Tony, we have to talk.'

'What about?' Tony asked, his curiosity now piqued, if it wasn't before. No man usually lock picked his way into a stranger's house to talk about the weather, which meant whatever this mystery man had to talk about it somehow involved Tony.

The man smiled, a smile that would've melted any girls heart, and spoke up again, his tone a little different now—almost cautious. 'Let's go to the specifics later, but you are dating Miss Teresa Lisbon now, am I right?'

The question, and the nonchalant way that it was asked in, got to Tony by surprise. His heart raced, and signs of worry and distress tried to take over Tony's face. It was one thing for a stranger to be following him but if the same stranger was also stalking his girlfriend (Tony wasn't all very sure she _was his_ _girlfriend_, but he hoped that she would be); that was out of the limits.

'Calm down, Mr. Carmichael, I am only looking out for Lisbon. You need not worry about me being a threat to her.' The man spoke as if he knew what was worrying Tony and bugging his mind. 'I am no stalker.' He paused, thought for a while before adding, 'At least not in the normal definition of the word.'

'I am dating Lisbon now, so what about her?' Tony was suspicious, now. The calmness of the atmosphere had been disturbed by the sudden outbreak of Tony's, though it did not seem like the stranger had been the least bit affected. The man took another sip of his tea, and put the cup down gently.

'Chamomile.' The stranger spoke up again, 'Calm your nerves after the job?' he asked matter-of-factly, and continued 'You are a man of defined taste, aren't you? Both in tea and women.' Then he stood up and smoothed down his suit.

The action seemed to trigger something in the corners of Tony's memory, and all of a sudden he knew where he had seen the stranger before. 'I know where I've seen you!' Tony shouted, excited, 'Ristorante Amanti! The restroom!' Now that he finally remembered, it seemed to Tony that this man was indeed following (or stalking, which seemed to describe the man's actions more accurately) him and Lisbon. Or at least just Lisbon.

'Good memory. Not many people would remember that.' The stranger affirmed Tony's suspicions. And smiled again. 'But back to the matter in hand, you're going to have to break-up with her or at least call and cancel indefinitely.'

Tony was shocked. As if invading his privacy and scaring the crap out of him wasn't enough, this bastard also wanted him to break all ties with a woman who he thought he might have a future with. He stood up, nostrils flaring, and demanded, 'Why?'

'Because I am in love with her. You've just met her, I've been by her side throughout the past decade or so. The dynamics in play are obviously different, as you would clearly understand.' The stranger spoke silently, almost gravely, as if he were revealing something painful.

'If you've been with her for the past ten years, then why haven't you? It is too late—' Tony was once again interrupted before he could get the entire sentence out.

'I've been preoccupied. Period.' The man stood silently for a while and smiled, as if he'd figured out the key to the entire problem. He walked towards Tony's front door and paused with his hand in the door knob. 'By the way, sorry for not introducing myself. You might've heard of or about me.' He stopped and grinned before continuing, 'Hello, I am Patrick Jane.'

Tony's entire vision of a future with Teresa disappeared with a flash. The name made so many obscure things clear, it made Tony feel like he had just learned to see. _Patrick Jane. The_ _Patrick Jane. Showman. Mentalist Extraordinaire. Crime solver. _Lisbon—it seemed wrong to call her Teresa now—had spoken so highly of this certain individual on their first date. She was clearly in love with him, even with all the luggage Jane carried from his past. The only reason she wasn't with Jane was that she thought he was still hung up on his past, but it did not seem so now. If Jane was in the field, Tony knew he had no chance with Teresa.

'Goodbye, Mr. Carmichael. I suppose you know what you need to do now?' Jane smiled and opened the door. Tony felt like the world's greatest fool. He should've known. The way the stranger seemed to pick up on the unspoken things. The way he predicted Tony's worries. If not that, the fact that he had lock picked his way into Tony's house should've been enough. Or the tea, Lisbon had told him about that. Tony recovered and managed to shut his still open mouth just in time to see that door close behind the disappearing form of the Mentalist.

—

Jane was still smiling as he shut the door gently behind him as he exited Tony's apartment. If the shock that he read in Tony's face meant what he though it meant, Lisbon had already told Tony about him. Jane smiled at that thought. His mind started to wander, exploring the possibilities, as he walked up to his Citroen—he had returned the rental car—and climbed in.

Now that he had accomplished what he thought was the hard step, the reality of the situation hit him. The harder parts were still to follow. Paranoia settled in Jane's mind, pushing away the disturbingly lovely thoughts that were occupying his head.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _Took me some to time to finish writing this, mostly because I was focusing on my actual story, which I hope will one day be published, but also because of the internet connection in where I currently am is pretty bad. Excuse me for that. You may notice some tense issues, I still haven't gotten past it yet, but I try to. Plus the chapter titles maybe a itsy bit confusing, it hard to find words that begin with "P" and correspond to the content of the chapter, excuse me for that. Ermmm, you may also notice that this chapter is mostly written from Tony's perspective. If you don't like it, I am not sorry, because I thought it would help the writing. Reviews?_


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